


Falling Before Flying

by thesteadypassageoftime



Category: Henry Stickmin Series (Video Games)
Genre: Charles is out here to catch himself a Man, Finding Love and Purpose in Life, M/M, Playing with Time and Feelings, Selectively Mute Henry Stickmin, Wingfic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-08
Updated: 2021-01-25
Packaged: 2021-03-18 16:56:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28621416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thesteadypassageoftime/pseuds/thesteadypassageoftime
Summary: Henry Stickmin knew how to fly, Henry Stickmin knew how to steal, Henry Stickmin did not know how to love.Or the Wingfic that no one asked for but I desperately needed.
Relationships: Charles Calvin/Henry Stickmin
Comments: 6
Kudos: 70





	1. Introduction

**Author's Note:**

> Basically in this Universe everything is the same except that there are bird hybrids called birdfolk in which people are born with the wings of different species of birds. I will expand more on the world in the fic and later notes, it's just really late and I worked all day and I'm really tired so that will be at a later time. Please leave feedback if you enjoyed!
> 
> This is just the introduction, updates will be slow but longer.

Henry Stickmin knew how to fly. In fact, he could fly ever since he was five years old, when he was barely more than a nestling under his mother's wing. That had been a long time ago, and while he knew how to fly, Henry preferred the feet he walked on rather than the wings he couldn’t trust. Only, that was the thing about being birdfolk. One was meant to trust their wings, trust the power behind each stroke and flex of muscle and feathers. Henry Stickmin however, a birdfolk, did not trust his wings.

It’s not as though they had failed him before, not technically. But Henry knew the risks, knew the potential failures and all the what if’s that could happen. He had seen them, experienced them all before, while at the same time never having gone through any of them. It was peculiar, this ability of his. With no clear beginning to this fate of his, Henry didn’t know how escape this never-ending cycle. At the very least, he had learned how to control it over the years. The bending of time and existence was no feeble matter and with this power of his, he could change his destiny to whatever he wanted it to be. The problem was, he didn’t know what he wanted.

Why did he steal? Why did he flee and evade the encroaching reality of existence, running from his responsibilities and his age like a teenager? Was it to fill his time and head with distractions? Was it to avoid becoming what his father was? Why did his mother leave him? Why, why, _why?_ A question he’s asked, and been asked all his life.

He tries not to dwell on it, hops from place to place like a nomad, never settling down and never staying put. He steals, gets bored, steals again. The cycle always begins with him stealing. Money, wallets from distracted passerby's, jewelry, watches, cars. Anything he could feasibly get his hands on, he takes. _You’ll always be a crow,_ his non-birdfolk father would always tell him. Crows are thieves, they see something shiny and they must have it. His mother was a crow, he is a crow. He is a thief.

He roams, all the while on his two feet. He doesn’t get far very fast; it takes him months to escape his home state of Washington to get across the country. He never lingers in one place long, staying in cheap motels that he pays for with stolen cash and credit cards. In the years since he left his old life behind, he’s roamed the country over and back. California to Oklahoma, Florida to Maine, New York to North Dakota. Never Washington. He steals and he runs. A crow's life.

Henry is twenty-five years old when he finally gets caught. Well, he’s been caught before but he’s always slipped away last second. No, he’s twenty-five years old when, for the first time, his quick wit and trusty legs fail him and he winds up in prison. It had been foolish of him, he could admit, to attempt a robbery at such a scale. He had never done anything that risky before. Nothing more than quick cash grabs and nimble fingers on loose wallets. And yet, while on his expedition through the Southwest for what felt like the hundredth time, he made the mistake of trying to break into a bank.

What a farce that had been.

Along with all of his pathetic failed attempts, which included getting stuck inside of a brick wall (he really shouldn’t have trusted that teleporter he got from that pigeon birdfolk in Manhattan), he had gotten his wings crushed on route to the bank leaving him in more pain than necessary from his extra appendages. If he truly had power of his fate, he would get rid of these accursed wings.

That left him in jail, for the first time in his existence, and in pain, certainly not the first time in his existence. Henry Stickmin could fly, but chooses not to. Henry Stickmin could steal, and lie and thieve, and he chooses to. Henry Stickmin could want, but he doesn’t know how to.


	2. Escaping the Prison

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took so long to update, I had been super busy and stressed as of late. I'm glad I finally found time to add the next chapter. Thank you all for the lovely comments and kutos! They mean a lot to me. As before, updates will be slow but they will be getting longer.
> 
> Right now we are in the introductory chapters, setting up the plot and such. The main plot will begin once Henry chooses his path for what we know to be completing the mission. Please stick with me until then! I may end up skipping over Stealing the Diamond, we shall See.
> 
> find me on Twitter! @passageoftimes

The damage to his wings was not as grievous as he first believed it to be, and while that was a good thing, he also found that he didn’t care all that much. It is not as though his wings were all that useful to him, or that he relied on them like some birdfolk have been known to do. His wings, for the weight that they were, were just as much a part of him as his arms and legs. They existed, he delt with them, that was that.

Once transported to the prison he was informed by the onsite nurse that while his wings were set to make a full recovery, he shouldn’t agitate them too much less he hinders any healing and render them useless. Henry had scoffed at that, seeing as they were useless enough as is to him and swiped the nurse's engagement ring before she left. She returned hours later with a sour frown and he reluctantly handed off his spoils.

That had been hours ago, the base of his wings bound in tight bandages to promote stable healing and his hopes crushingly low as the reality of the situation set in. Henry had never been contained like this before, he was a free spirit and preferred the thrill of the run than anything. Here, in this tiny cell with the same four walls starring at him for hours, it was almost too much. There was nothing to do, nothing to steal and nothing to want.

Not as though he knew how to want to begin with.

“Oi! You!” A harsh voice rang through the hall, breaking the quiet, repressive atmosphere of the cell.

Henry looked up from where he was kicking dust around on the empty concrete floor under him. Standing at the cell door were two of the police officers that responded to his attempted bank robbery, the both of them leering into the room with false smiles. Henry had seen those smiles a million times from a million people.

“You’re free to go.” The shorter police officer addressed him, sounding deceptively genuine. Henry so desperately wanted to believe him, so much so a bit of hope filled his chest and he felt the reflex of his wings shift behind him, pulling the bandages taunt as his feathers flexed. His wings were tense, and still aching from the adventures he had while breaking into the bank, and yet they fluttered and crooked behind him nonetheless. A constant and heavy weight, no more comforting than it was burdening. Just like hope in a way.

A coy smile broke out on the officer’s face. His hazel eyes gleamed.

“Not really.” He crowed with a laugh. A liar, how typical. _Never trust a hawk_ , his mother had always said. He could see why now. Although, to be fair, his mother taught him to be distrustful of almost every type of birdfolk. And humans for that fact. His mother didn’t trust anyone, not even herself Henry would later learn.

The two officers laughed amongst themselves for a second, in that time Henry allowed himself to study the other policeman. He was taller than the first with light brown, almost golden hair that shined in the light. His hair matched his wings beautifully, or what Henry could see of his wings as they were small, tucked mostly behind him. What delicate little things.

Not all birdfolk were created equal. While most birdfolk such as himself had proportionate sized wings, that allowed them flight and protection, other birdfolk were born with smaller and more fragile wings that could never support their weight. The police officer in question was one of the unlucky ones, with wings so small and fragile they could never amount to anything. Wings like that were nothing more than accessories.

“But you’ve got a package.” Oh, the hawk was still talking. Henry hadn’t noticed, too busy blocking out the both of them in favor of starring back at the floor. He had no interest in entertaining the whims of these two bored police officers. Just as he looked back up, the taller one shoved a cardboard box in through the gape in his cell bars, it landed with a rattle on the floor in front of Henry. “Don’t get your hopes up,” The hawk continued, dramatically waving a hand, “We’ve already checked it for anything useful, haven’t we Dave?”

The hawk boasted, looking to his companion with a cocky smile. The more fragile birdfolk, Dave his name was, immediately balked up and began wringing his hands with a sheepish look on his face. Henry couldn’t tell what type of birdfolk he was from the few glimpses of his wings, but if he had to take a guess, he would choose something wimpy, like a robin, or cowardly like a chicken.

"What? Yeah... Yeah, of course I've checked it! I mean, if I didn't check it, I would lose my job, I don't wanna lose my job!" Dave rambled off, a trickle of sweat gleaming down his neck while he nervously avoided the hawk's gaze. What a flimsy lie that had been, but for whatever reason the hawk seemed pleased enough with that response and turned his sharp gaze back toward Henry.

“Well, see you around.” He smirked before waving off Henry and turning to walk away. Dave followed close behind and Henry could hear the hawk laugh and boast some more before they were finally out of range. Good, Henry didn’t want to see them anymore anyway. The hawk was too haughty for his liking and Dave, upon turning around to reveal the unmistakable plumage of a canary, was too wimpy.

Henry knelt next to the cardboard box, he had no idea who would be sending him a package but he would count it as a little blessing, even if it had been a mistake. Henry ripped open the box, throwing the lid somewhere behind him to reveal a... cake. A cake of all things. The icing was a soft pink, with a rim of fuchsia decorations on it. To top it all off, there was several blue birthday candles. How peculiar. There was no feasible way this was meant for him, not only did he have no immediate friends or family to send him a present, it was nowhere near his birthday.

Suddenly, with a hiss, the top of the cake opened up, revealing a metal interior and secret compartment. Hidden inside the compartment was a large drill, a perfect tool for helping him escape. Perhaps his luck was turning around, he wouldn’t have to figure a way out after all, one had been handed to him.

Henry removed the drill from the compartment, wasting no time in activating the tool and beginning his tunneling down the floor below. The sound was harsh to his sensitive ears, but he ignored it. He was on a mission after all. After some drilling, the floor below him collapsed, causing him to land in a blocked off bathroom. His wings rattled from the impact, and on reflex he tucked them in closer to his body to prevent any more damage to come to them. The thief bit his lip to prevent himself from crying out in pain, it wouldn’t serve him any good to get caught now. Giving the bathroom a glance over, he looked for something to help him escape.

There was an old bagel on the counter, but that wouldn’t do him any good. There was nothing of value left in the bathroom either so nothing for him to swipe on his way out. That left him with the crowbar at his feet. Henry almost laughed, a crow using a crowbar. He jarred open the grate at his feet and climbed in, keeping his wings close to prevent them from snagging on anything. The crawl through the vent was short before a creaking could be heard.

_Uh oh._

Henry barely had the time to think before the metal gave out from under him, sending him crashing to the ground where he regrettably not only landed on his wings once again, he landed in front of two other policemen. The three had a stare off for a fraction of a second before the human police officer snapped back to his wit and pointed an accusing finger at the escapee.

_Shit, shit, SHIT._ Henry was back on his feet in seconds as he took off in the opposite direction of his pursuers. He scrambled for a firm footing, in the end forcing his wings to untuck away from his body to serve as balancing assist. He had only managed to tuck his dark wings back in once again when a bullet whizzed past, missing him by inches. Oh great, they were shooting at him now. Wasn’t that a bit extreme for an escapee?

Henry dodged another bullet before ducking to the left, the officers close behind him. The human was still shooting, however the birdfolk officer, armed with a shotgun flew behind Henry at a steady pace. He was fast on his feet, and even faster in the air. It was only a matter of time before he caught up to the fleeing crow.

_Well. Fuck._ Henry cursed internally as he looked ahead of him, where he was fast approaching a wall. He gulped, and pushed his trusty legs harder. It was too late for him to veer off course without losing too much traction and getting caught by the steadily approaching Thrasher birdfolk. No, he had to commit to his choice and trust his legs, they had never failed him before. Not like his mother and not like his wings.

_I can do this._ Henry gulped, finally upon the wall before kicking his feet out and attempting to run up the wall. It was far easier said than done, and he only got a few feet up the wall before gravity forced him to push off. Luckily, he managed to clear the height of the officer before pushing off the wall with a flip. The thrasher, having barely stopped before crashing into the wall himself, could not recover in time as Henry bolted off to the right toward the exit.

He was almost in the clear, his legs had almost taken him the whole way to freedom. He was going to make it out. Then, out of seemingly nowhere another officer stepped out in front of the door, blocking his path. Within seconds he was surrounded, police officers of varying species and holding different types of weapons blocked his way. Henry once again cursed his luck.

_Now how am I gonna get out of this one?_

Quite easily, apparently. The captain had raised his gun at Henry, firing off bullet after bullet to take him down. Little had he known that Henry could twist fate. Not like he cared to, the twisting of time and space always left him with a terrible headache. In this case, it was a necessity as he ducked back out of the way of the rain of bullets upon him. The captain emptied his clip, not a single bullet reaching its destination.

_Oh, sue me for showing off a bit won’t you._ Henry smirked, catching the final bullet out of the air before flinging it back at the officer who shot it, successfully knocking his gun out of his hands. The other officers watched on in shock, too stunned or too scared to stop Henry from waltzing out of the prison with a cocky smile.

He hotwired a police car, a trick he had learned when he was nineteen and freshly on the streets, before pulling out of the prison parking lot with a screech of tires. He may never know who sent him that gift, but oh boy wasn’t he thankful for it.

There was no place capable of containing Henry Stickmin. Not his home state of Washington, not a prison, nothing. Henry Stickmin was free, that’s all that mattered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not me ignoring the canonical route of escaping the prison to replace it with my favorite lmao. that being said I did end up switching to Badass Bust Out because I didn't want to do Sneaky Escapist and have it obvious for Henry to use his wings as a method of getting down.
> 
> I didn't want Henry, as a person who detests his wings, to use them so freely. There will be a time in the story where he will need to use them and I wanted it to be significant. Plus I just like Badass Bust Out.
> 
> As always thank you for your support, I hope to hear from you all!

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on Twitter! @passageoftimes


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